


Lullaby for the Apprentice

by SpartanEngineer



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Cute, F/M, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 03:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5149310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpartanEngineer/pseuds/SpartanEngineer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not every love story needs to be colorful. Sometimes, it can be quiet, soft, and comforting. Beautiful, despite knowing its fleeting nature, and its tragic end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Inquisition Dialogue with Amell](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4527477) by [SpartanEngineer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpartanEngineer/pseuds/SpartanEngineer). 



> Okay, so in "INQUISITION DIALOGUE WITH AMELL", Amell discusses a story he wrote as a 19 year-old, commenting on his embarrassment in writing it at all. When I wrote that dialogue, I really didn't expect to get a request to post the REAL 'Lullaby for the apprentice'. So, after much deliberation, thought, fangirl-squeeing in the seat, and going red, I wrote it.  
> It is much different from the "hot" story that Amell claimed to have written, because I suck at writing smut. However, its still a very cute story that I thoroughly enjoyed writing. I hope you enjoy it!

I pushed opened the heavy wooden door and turned out into the garden, trying to imitate the disinterested stroll of gossiping apprentices. She’s there on the stone bench, in front of the apple tree. Early than me, as always, with a book in hand. We share a nod of acknowledgement, and I sit down next to her; an arm’s length away.

An arm’s length; the closest I could ever get to someone without showing my feelings.

We always sit at the arm’s length. Sometimes, I would sit on the edge, daring her to come closer. Sometimes, it’s her turn. Still, we sit at the arm’s length. Always.

Unless if the afternoon winds brings rain – then we sit closer. I always thank the Maker for the leaky spot. Water dripped onto the stone, pushing us both to the right. Closer. At a heartbeat away.

Today, despite the cold winds over the Lake, there is no rain. So we sit at an arm’s length away. She reads the book, and I am dozing. Or trying to.

Of course, it wasn’t always like this. This bench was mine from the start.

Being the oldest apprentice in the Kinloch Hold, I had always been here, on the right side of the stone bench. At the quietest corner of the outer garden, behind the apple tree. I had been here for so long, I was now as much a part of the landscape as the tree itself.

This was the place I was to be found. Alone.

The numerous friends I had knew to keep their distance. More than an arm’s length away. Whenever I was behind this apple tree, I was to be solitary, undisturbed. It was an unspoken rule that everyone knew.

So I was surprised to find a girl here. It was only a few months ago.

I had never seen her before. A new apprentice, under the hold of the Templars. She sat, deeply concentrating in her book, oblivious to my arrival. Oblivious to her unspoken challenge. I wondered for a long time why I had not shooed her away. This bench was mine. She was unwelcome here.

But I let her stay.

Perhaps it was the pity of a newcomer. Perhaps it was out of amusement. Perhaps it was because of _her_. Regardless of the reason, she had stayed on the bench on that warm summer day.

We shared greetings back inside the Tower. As customary, I became her guide into her new life. A friend to be found… I was always _a_ friend to be found. Then we said goodbyes, smiled, and went into our respective quarters.

The day after, I found her again behind the apple tree. We did not talk. We simply sat down, an arm’s length, and spent the afternoon there.

From that day on, the bench became _ours_.

It was a queer thing to say. ‘Ours’. Not mine, but ours.

A hustle of trees and a yell. We both look up. The time was up. She closes her book with a soft snap, and I grudgingly stand up. She leaves first. I, slowly, follow.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

I knew this feeling. The tiptoe of the heartbeat. The small, almost nonexistent smile. Unconscious fidgeting. Most importantly, thinking. Constantly thinking. I knew it very well. And I knew the answers to the questions.

I knew also that my answers were all wrong.

I pushed opened the heavy wooden door and turned out into the garden, trying to imitate the disinterested stroll of gossiping apprentices. Today, I failed miserably. What was so different about today?

I arrived earlier than her.

The bench seemed so empty. Cold. Nothing behind the apple tree. For the first time months, I was alone again on this solitary bench. Right now, it was neither mine nor hers. No-one’s.

I sit down and close my eyes. I think. Again. I sit there for a while. An apple hung an arm’s length away. Ripe, sweet, red. My nose pick up its fragrance. A grin spreads across my face. I lift my hands towards the fruit.

Some moments later, she arrived with a book in hand. We share a nod of acknowledgement. I close my eyes nonchalantly.

A soft giggle tickles my ears. Then I hear a crisp crunch as she bites into an apple.

My lips betray me. It’s already smiling.

A rustle, softer than the dance of the leaves, and she sits down. Closer. Closer than an arm’s length away. There is no rain today. No ringing pongs of dripping water. In its place, a heartbeat. I’m not sure if it’s mine or hers. Maybe ours.

I feel a nudge, and blood rushes to my ears. I open my eyes. I do my best to remain cool in this warm autumn’s day. My eyes meet hers. She’s holding up the apple.

I shake my head. “Enjoy it. It’s yours.”

She smiles widely. I return to my sleeping position, eyes closed. I think that was the first word that I said to her here. ‘Enjoy’. Enjoy the apple. Enjoy being here.

We sat for a while. Her eating the apple. I, dozing. Tomorrow, we will sit again at an arm’s length away. But today, we share our heartbeats.

I don’t want the time to pass.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—


	2. Chapter 2

I walk through the open door and walk towards the garden. I take my time. Today, I know I am early. Cool draft rushes forward to kiss my cheeks. A continuous patter drown out the usual echoes of my lonely steps. I grin towards the sky.

It’s raining today.

I make my way lazily to our stone bench, letting the raindrops roll playfully down my hair. My grin lingers at the youthful pleasure, savoring the anticipation. Another step, and I’m behind the apple tree.

The stone bench is dry.

I touch it. It’s moist, but not wet. The hole was thatched a day before by the Templars.

The next moment, I am lying on my back. An arm presses against my forehead. A pair of feet dangle off the edge. My anticipation rolls off onto the floor. It sits there, on the cold hard stone, cooling.

I scan the ceiling with murderous eyes. The patchwork is solid. Dry, and solid. Like everything they do.

A groan escapes my mouth. My anticipation is now dead on the floor. I lie still. The soft patter of rain comforts me. For the first time, I don’t like my bench. It’s too hard. Too cold. Too long. We will sit at an arm’s length again.

A cold draft chills my skin. I shudder. Winter is approaching.

Had it been a year ago, I would have smiled at the cold wind. I love the snow. The way it covers the earth. Silencing the world. Quietly. I love the peace – near total loneliness.

Strangely, I think I will be too lonely this winter. Even though there is someone merely an arm’s length away.

For a few minutes, I lie, my eyes closed, mind devoid of thought. Then a soft touch wakens me. She’s grinning sheepishly, and I sit up to make room for her. She pauses briefly, and leans down to touch the stone. The same spot that I checked. She looks up at the ceiling. The same spot that I looked.

I can’t read her face.

She sits down in her usual spot. We are, again, an arm’s length away. Neither of us are brave enough to dare closer. We sit awkwardly; even more so than usual. That’s when I realize that she wasn’t carrying a book. In her arms are blankets and pillows.

The bench is a perfect bed for her small elven height.

I get up. Her gratitude is obvious. A polite smile on both our faces, and then I leave. My feet are lost in the wide Circle garden. For almost a decade, they have never explored the evening garden. Now, they are forced to wander, pushed out of their usual place by an elven girl. They slosh through the wet dirt, leading gradually to other apprentices.

Jowan eyes me in surprise. I ignore him the best I can. Anders strikes up a conversation with me. I talk half-heartedly, and leave. I walk past Wynne, eventually finding a place for myself next to a gargoyle on the second floor. A solace under the raining sky.

I blame last night’s abomination at today’s loss while I gaze at the apple tree.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

I try to open the wooden door, but it’s jammed. A solid kick only numbs my toes. It’s frozen solid. My breath clouds up, steaming in the frigid air. I know what to do, but I’m afraid to do it. A worried glance over the shoulders. I strain my ears for any footsteps. All I can hear is my breath.

Slowly, my hand spreads over the corners of the wood. Warm fire issues forth, melting the ice. It’s a slow agonizing process. Eventually though, the door relents, groaning under the heat.

The door opens smoothly.

My eyes takes a moment to adjust to the white world outside. The first snow had fallen. Spotless, pure, quiet. The smooth grinding sounds hum in my head. My solitary trail of footprints ends in the middle of the garden.

My eyelashes flutter as the snow falls ever so softly my face.

I fall onto my back. The deep snow softens my landing. Winter robes do more than enough to keep me warm. I feel myself melting into the landscape. The quiet, the loneliness, the peace. In this utter stillness, nothing can disturb me.

I find myself missing something that was never mine.

I let the emptiness reverberate through my core, thoroughly enjoying it without knowing why. There I lie for a long time, on what seems like an impossible infinity.

A frustrated flinch of cheeks reacts to the noise from the hallway.

I get up, and make my way to the stone bench. It’s cold and empty. I sit down on my usual right, and greet her arrival with a nod. I eye her carefully, worrying. Sure enough, she begins to shudder on the stone bench. Her small autumn robes just weren’t up to the job. Even at an arm’s length away, I could feel her shivers.

My heart beats a step faster.

I feel daring. With a push off my foot, I slide closer. Closer than an arm’s length. Close enough to feel her shivers against my robes. Close enough to know her thoughts.

My heart beats even faster.

I wrap my arms around her shoulders, spreading open my winter coat to share between the two of us. I don’t hesitate, lest the brief moment of deliberation take away what courage I have.

My heart is racing.

Without even looking at me, she leans towards me. Snuggles into the fold of my arm.

I try my best to appear casual. Fingers close softly around her shoulders. A flick, and some shuffle, and she’s warm. _We’re_ warm. She is so small. Even for an elf, she is tiny. She barely takes up room within my long coat.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so close to her before.

What defense I had is undone when she leans her head against my chest. That’s as high as her head can go, but it’s perfect. Right over my heart. I know that she can hear its every beat.

Warmth spreads to the edges of my hands and feet. My face is red as an apple. Winter all forgotten.

We both stay still for a very long time.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—


End file.
